


Silent Night (Nothing Feels Right)

by OnceUponaFangirl



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a sprinkle of Christmas, Canonical Character Death, Christmas fic, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, but we respect Peter's parents in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28325064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceUponaFangirl/pseuds/OnceUponaFangirl
Summary: "It’s just I, I hate Christmas, okay? Like the fact that people buy you presents is nice and everyone talks about getting together with family but I don’t have that. I did and all Christmas does is remind me that I don’t. My mom and dad, they loved Christmas, lived for it. It was a two month holiday and it was so magical and perfect and then they died right before Christmas and now Christmas just hurts, it really, really hurts."orA look at grief during the holiday seasons throughout the years as Peter and Tony grow closer.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 13
Kudos: 53
Collections: Irondad and Spiderson Secret Santa 2020





	Silent Night (Nothing Feels Right)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seekrest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/gifts).



> Here's some angst with a sprinkle of Christmas. I know this year is especially hard for so many people, and so I hope this can be cathartic for you. I wanted to play with the idea of Christmas being really hard for Peter while Tony loves it. Written for my friend and beautiful co-mod Seekrest. It's an honor to know you, SR. I know you like angst, and what's more angsty than grieving? Merry Christmas everyone. Stay safe, stay well, and take care of yourselves. 
> 
> Title from The Worst Christmas Ever by Sufjan Stevens. Rated T for the use of one curse word. What's Infinity War and Endgame? We don't know her here.

Peter’s first five Christmases are the best, though time has made them fuzzy and grief romanticized their imprint on his mind. He sees it in flashes: at the Christmas market around Rockefeller, where Richard and Mary would take him every year to buy new decor that littered the tiny apartment the week following Thanksgiving. In a classic clear lit Christmas tree whose top bends at the ceiling, it’s height too high for the space it’s confined, in science toys and loving looks, and “Merry Christmas, our little genius. You’re gonna change the world someday,” his mom would say. The tables were an explosion of glittered tinsel and forest garland, accenting the edges and corners. while Harry Connick Jr crooned “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.” In the smell of gingerbread wafting from the oven after a hard day at school, after some kid named Rodrigo called him a four-eyed-freak and pushed him down, scraping his knee. In how he would curl up on the couch with his parents every evening the month of December, an old Christmas movie playing on the TV. Ben and May would join them every Christmas morning, and the five of them would spend the day drinking eggnog and dancing, May snatching the crimson ribbon from the tree and waving it around as her hips swayed. She’d reach out her hand to Peter until they were all dancing and singing, quite horribly, from the top of their lungs. He knows there were things he didn’t see, or his mind chose not to remember that might crush his idyllic five-year-old heart. But it was perfect, in his mind’s recollection. It was perfect. 

Until it wasn’t. 

Until a plane crashed in the Pacific and his world imploded and crashed with it. He went home with his Uncle Ben, and never returned to the apartment twelve blocks over in Queens. Dancing on Christmas felt wrong; everything, including Christmas itself felt wrong - a stabbing, overwhelming void he drowned in. (At least Rodrigo was nice to him now.) His sixth Christmas Eve, he cried until sleep claimed the remainder of his energy and Ben and May cried with him. The day was met with little fanfare, and he didn’t care about the presents under the too small tree, with colored lights instead of clear. Maybe if today didn’t happen, if he just laid in the Captain America comforter until it was dark outside again, it wouldn’t be real. He could forget the wet grass by the graveside where his parents' names were engraved into stone less than a month ago. The void hurt, his chest constricting with every breath. 

“Peter, honey, it’s Christmas,” May said, her eyes just as swollen and red as his own. 

“No, it’s not!” he protested, turning his face away from her and burying it further into the pillow. “It’s not Christmas without mom and dad. They...they loved Christmas. It can’t be Christmas without them.”

“You know..” May starts, choking on the words and letting it trail off.

“You’re right, Pete.” Ben said “It’s not Christmas without them. Come on, bud. Grab your coat. We’re going on a field trip.” 

And that’s how it started, how they ended up stomping through the dark, gross, mush of snow, presents in hand, to spend Christmas morning with Richard and Mary once more. He didn’t know if he believed in heaven, but he hoped it was real, because it was very cold and sad there, Peter thought. But it’s the only way he knew to be with them. 

It became tradition after that, and even on years that Peter didn’t want to visit, they’d brave the weather and sit around the graveside, exchanging presents and stories and highs and lows of the year. A morbid, oddly comforting reminder of everything he lost and everything he still had.

The year that Ben died, gunned down in a bodega over some petty cash, May didn’t sleep Christmas Eve. Peter stayed with her, curled up on the couch with a blanket and Ben’s favorite Christmas movies playing in the background. The grief eclipsed any remaining joy the “happiest season of all” supposedly carried. When morning came, it was Peter who coaxed May from her despair with hot chocolate and a sad smile. 

“Come on May,” he whispered. “It’s not Christmas without the family.” 

Ben was buried next to his parents. Neither Peter nor May did much more than cry and say “Merry Christmas” that year. 

-/-/-

**2016**

Tony Stark loved Christmas, in a sort of nauseating, over-the-top way that Tony Stark does everything. He hired four dozen decorators to deck his house, the compound, and the rebought tower in different themes. It reminded Peter of his parents, in the way that you couldn’t turn a corner without seeing a tree, or garland, or some sort of Christmas memorabilia. And though the season brought a sharp sting with it, Tony’s joy and love for it was contagious. Peter couldn’t help but smile when he saw a Christmas hat resting on top of an old Iron Man suit, or an entire wall covered in high-tech Christmas lights. It reminded him of Christmas as a child, especially since he had started getting closer to Tony. Which was some whole other childhood dream, weird thing he was still figuring out how to navigate, come to life. After May had found out about Spider-Man, she called Happy, who called Mr. Stark and spent an hour ripping him a new one. Peter thought he would die of embarrassment right then and there. But to his surprise, it ended with Tony taking a more active role not just in the superhero antics, but Peter as well. Tony had even gone as far to invite Peter and May to his annual Christmas party a few months later.

Even May’s lingering fury was not enough to turn down the opportunity. The party is extravagance at its finest, overwhelming in its lavish embellishment. May abandons him three glasses of champagne in, leaving Peter to wander around looking for any familiarity with a growing sense of feeling out of place. He fidgets with his hands, adjusting the purposefully ugly Christmas tie May had bought him for the occasion, declining offers of the fancy cocktails, when he spots Happy. He basically sprints over to him. 

“No, nope I did not sign up to chaperone you tonight kid. I’m security.”

“I’m 15,” Peter whines. “ I don't need a chaperone. Besides, May is here.”

“May, your single aunt May?” Happy inquires with a raise of his brow. 

“Ew. No, no no no no. Do not ruin this for me. Please stop.” He covers his ears, as if that could help him unhear where Happy’s thoughts are. 

Happy just shrugs. “Wanna be my, what do you call it? My guy in the chair.” 

“As long as it doesn’t involve my aunt, sure.” Just then, Peter hears a crash, cringing as an ice sculpture shatters to the ground about forty feet away, onto the fake snow covering the floor. 

“Okay kid, you’re on watch. Use that peter tingle of yours and super senses to make sure no one steals shit. We better split up though, it’s better for security if I cover one end and you the other. I’ve got Frozone over there.”

“Yes Mr. Happy, sir. Tha- Thank you!”

With Happy gone, Peter feels the loneliness return. It’s interrupted with the touch of a hand on his shoulder. “Ah, Underoos! You made it.” Tony says. “I see your aunt is hitting it off with Pepper.” They turn to the right and Tony waves. May’s head is thrown back in laughter and Pepper is pointing to her fiance. “Actually, wait this might have been a terrible idea.” 

Peter laughs at that, and for the first time that night, he feels at ease. Mr. Stark’s hand on his shoulder is an anchor tethering him in this unfamiliar environment. As if he could sense it, Mr. Stark lifts up his completely unnecessary sunglasses, leveling him with a smirk. “You okay? I know these can be pretty overwhelming. I ordered some eggnog and apple juice just for you, you know since you can’t enjoy the adult beverages. I mean, I was at your age but this is why you are better than me.” 

“I’m okay, Mr. Stark. Thank you for inviting me. And everything.”

“I couldn’t not invite my favorite young adult. Aren’t you youngins supposed to be the epitome of Christmas spirit and all that jazz?”

“I mean, look at my tie. It’s got Christmas spirit.” 

Tony opens his mouth to respond, but closes it. “You know what, here.” He reaches into his inner coat pocket, pulling out a small, red wrapped package. “You seem like you could use some Christmas cheer.” Tony hands it to him, turns on his heel and calls out “Merry Christmas, Pete” as he walks away.

The following weekend, Peter sits on a ratty quilt in a deserted graveyard on Christmas morning. May is standing back, giving him some semblance of privacy. “Hey mom, dad, Ben. I...This year has been surreal. I saved New York. And Mr. Stark got me a Christmas present. It’s a watch that turns into web shooters and it is possibly the coolest thing ever and I think we’re like, friends? It’s nice, really weird, but…” Peter sighs, pulling at the grass around the stones. “I miss you all. And Mr. Stark really loves Christmas and sometimes it’s hard, because I don’t. But he makes me want to love it too. And this little girl told me that Spider-Man is better than Santa Clause, which is insane, right? I wish you could see me. May said you’d be proud of me, but. I just really wish you all were here.” 

-/-/-

**2017**

When Thanksgiving rolls around the next year and starts off the holiday season, it brings the ache of grief with it. He doesn’t have the time to dwell in it like he has in years past, too preoccupied with AP tests, the SATs, Spider-Manning, and bi-weekly training and lab days with Mr. Stark. So when the billionaire invites him to his personal, small family, Christmas, he’s really confused and surprised when the main emotion that surfaces is one of overwhelming sadness for the family he’s lost. Ned would probably have a conniption if the roles were reversed, passing out on site of elation. And it’s not that he isn’t excited, it’s just…

A guilt, he’ll realize later. But naming it doesn’t make it any easier. He knows he isn’t replacing them, _he knows that,_ but it feels almost paternal, how Mr. Stark looks after him, knows his schedule, and worries over his safety to an overbearing extent. And now he’s somehow a part of his _family_ Christmas. 

“Are you sure you want me to come to Christmas dinner, Mr. Stark? I don’t want to intrude on your family-”

“I wouldn’t invite you if I didn’t want you there, Peter.” He says. The use of his actual first name stops him in his tracks, only reserved for moments of seriousness. It’s enough to quell the insecurities for now. He’s not going to ruin anything about his mentor’s favorite holiday. 

“Okay.”

It’s only Tony, Pepper, Rhodey, Happy May and Peter Christmas Evening, though the amount of food could feed triple that amount. Peter’s excited, but drained from the earlier holiday festivities, so he takes the time to admire the decor around the house. It’s elegant, obviously Pepper’s doing, and he tries to force some of the magic of the season into his bones. There’s a tree in the corner whose tip caresses the ceiling, and it unlocks a memory that Peter had forgotten: _Peter sits atop his fathers shoulders at age four, reaching as high as he can to put the star at the top of the tree. When he leans forward, his glasses slide to the tip of his nose. “Daddy, my glasses!” he calls, but it’s too late and they fall to the floor. In the commotion, he drops the star too, and it breaks. Peter begins to cry._

_Richard bends down to retrieve the fallen items, and swings Peter back around to his front. “It’s okay, your glasses are fine.” He holds them out to him. “See?”_

_“But,” his lip quivers. “But I broke the star. I’m so sorry daddy.”_

_He shushes him gently, pulling him in a hug. “The star doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re okay. You didn’t fall. It’s okay. I’m gonna put you on the couch while I clean up this glass,” Richard kisses his head. “I think it looks better without it, anyway. It’s too tall for a topper.”_

_“You’re not mad?” Peter asks, voice cracking._

_“Mad? No, of course not. It was an accident.”_

Rhodey’s laughter brings Peter back to the present and he forces a smile. Peter looks around and even Happy looks happy, animatedly gesturing as he retells an embarrassing story from Tony’s past. He tries to focus on the story, fingernails digging crescents into his palm, but it only draws blood and heightens the constriction on his heart. Peter excuses himself, racing off to the bathroom and locking the door.

He expects it to be May who finds him, but to his surprise it’s Tony who is knocking on the door a couple minutes later. “Pete? You okay in there?”

“I’m fine, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to worry you.” Peter replies, opening the door and refusing to meet his mentor’s eyes.

“Care to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“Come on, kid. I know you. You’ve been off. And not just today, this whole month. What’s going in that head of yours?”

He feels a single tear roll down his cheek and the words spew fast. “It’s just I, I hate Christmas, okay? Like the fact that people buy you presents is nice and everyone talks about getting together with family but I don’t have that. I did and all Christmas does is remind me that I don’t. My mom and dad, they loved Christmas, lived for it. It was a two month holiday and it was so magical and perfect and then they died right before Christmas and now Christmas just hurts, it really fucking hurts. And I know you love it and I don’t want to ruin it for you because no one should have something they love ruined, you know? I’m just, I’m just so tired. And it’s hard every year and I try to pretend that it’s not but. I just. I miss my family. I miss Ben and my parents and I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me and I don’t want to make this about me because you deserve to have a good Christmas. I’m sorry. I - ” He sighs deep, closing his eyes tight to keep the emotions at bay, and slides down the wall to sit on the floor. Tony joins him, sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce in front of him. 

“I, I’m not great with this emotional stuff, and I think, well my therapist would say my way of coping is doing everything in excess. My parents died just before Christmas, and my dad was not the ideal father and my mom, I don’t know how she put up with him, loved him even. But I have three good memories of my parents together, and one of them was on Christmas.” Tony pauses a moment, lost in the recollection. “And I love Christmas because I’m just trying to get that feeling back. Sometimes I can. Most of the time I can’t. You don’t have to pretend to like Christmas for me, or for anyone. But you do have to pretend to like Pep’s cooking.”

“She’s a great cook!”

“Your comparison is your aunt who I’m pretty sure destroyed your taste buds with her date loaf.”

“At least I don’t eat gross rich people food that no one can pronounce.”

Tony gently elbows him. “Tell me about them, your parents.”

Peter smiles, and it feels genuine for the first time in two weeks. He doesn’t usually talk about them, and he wonders now if it’s because no one ever asks. As he begins to talk, he feels a weight lifted from his chest he hadn’t realized was there. The grief is still there, but it’s sting is subdued, and he feels himself actually appreciating the holiday for the moment. Tony’s a better listener than Peter would have expected and it isn’t long until he’s sharing his stories with everyone. May’s anecdotes add character and details he only remembered from the times she would tell him. It feels nice, sharing this part of himself with the people he now considers family.

-/-/-

**2018**

It’s stupid how it happens really. One second he’s singing to himself to the tune of Jingle Bells “Thwipping through the streets of New York every night. Wrapping bad guys up in my web so tight. Crawling up the walls, making villains fight. What fun to make the holidays free from crime tonight. Oh-” And the next his body slams full force into a crane and through a building. He will never live this down, as Karen reminds him now that he’s conscious and recovering in the Tower’s medbay. Mr. Stark, sympathetic at first, has now played the video for all of the Avengers. This is death by mortification, and if he doesn’t live until Christmas, his obituary will read “killed by quick wit in an attempt at holiday spirit gone wrong. His untimely demise is the fault of mentor and fellow Avenger, Iron Man, who thrives off Spider-Man’s constant embarrassment.” 

The super drugs Dr. Cho has him on keeps him wired and restless. In the three days since he has broken his leg and fractured his ribs, he’s eaten copious amounts of food, mostly cookies because “it’s Christmas. Don’t deny me these joys”, played hours of video games, Facetimed Ned, binge watched the first season of Chuck, and begged Tony to let him work in the lab. He’s met with a no everytime, with Tony, May, and Dr. Cho saying he needs to rest instead of work. 

“I’m tired of resting. I want to do things.”

“You should have thought about that before you didn’t pay attention to where you were swinging, Tarzan.” Tony replies.

Peter groans, overly dramatic. Christmas Eve is tomorrow and he can’t even walk. May’s staying with them, both her and Peter not wanting to be separated so close to Christmas. She’s been burying herself in books, and Peter knows it’s just a distraction from the grief that resurrects this time of year. He couldn’t be more grateful she’s here with him though, her presence a balm keeping him from tearing at the seams. And no matter how energetic he acts, the seasonal anxiety still thrums just beneath the surface, worsened by his injured state. 

He needs to move. He needs to do things. He needs -

“Tony, can I fly your Iron Man suit? I don’t even need to walk and-”

“Absolutely not.”

Christmas Eve is quieter than normal. They play Christmas movies all day, different Avengers rotating in and out. It’s the first prolonged period of time he’s really got to spend with them since Tony and Steve made up a few months ago. Things are still tense, especially between the aforementioned heroes, but Tony seems more content and Peter was more than ecstatic to meet everyone. Natasha is the one that’s surprised him the most: she’s kinder than he would have thought, taking an immediate liking to her “fellow Spider”. It’s still surreal to see her lounging around in her pajamas, eating cereal, doing normal people things. She’s made it a game to throw random things at him to see if he’ll catch or dodge it. He usually ends up getting hit with two pillows a day when he stays at the Tower. 

It’s late Christmas Eve night when he realizes he won’t be able to visit his family the following morning, and the anxiety he’s been fighting explodes to the surface. Friday alerts Tony to Peter’s change in vitals and he’s there in fifteen seconds. 

"Breathe with me Pete. Come on, you’re okay. In and out, feel that?” Tony grabs Peter’s hand, pressing it into his chest. “Mimic me. You’re safe. Breathe. You’re doing great.” 

Minutes pass before Peter’s breathing returns to normal and he leans into Tony’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Anytime. . .Wanna talk about it?”

“I-” He sits up and opens his mouth to refuse, but something stops him. Maybe this is something he can fix. “I spend every Christmas morning since my parents passed at the cemetery with them and Ben and I - I can’t tomorrow.” he gestures to his casted leg. “I just, it’s the only way I know to...honor them. Be with them. Christmas was their favorite day, I just, I have to spend it with them.” There’s a pause, the weight of Peter’s words syncing in. 

“Wow kid, that’s really fucking sad.” Tony responds, squeezing his shoulder gently in a sign of comfort. “But, what kind of billionaire, philanthropist, superhero and mentor would I be if I ruined your depressing Christmas tradition because of a broken leg?”

“Wait, you - I can go?”

“Yeah, get some sleep. We’ll go in the morning.”

They wheel Peter to the headstones the next morning. He thinks it’s a little dramatic, but he knows that his fractured ribs will be thankful. It’s surprisingly warm for a December 25th, and Peter’s just thankful to have May, Tony, and Pepper there - the new and old truly blending for the first time. Pepper had brought three sets of flowers, and the gesture warms Peter from the inside out. 

He tells his parents and Ben about joining the Avengers, defeating the Green Goblin, and how he’s about graduate high school. Tony even speaks up, talking of the more embarrassing moments on missions and in training. May talks about wine nights with Pepper, and the new office job she started in September. 

Peter doesn’t realize he’s crying at first, not until May is bent down in front of him, wiping a tear from his cheek. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t - I don’t know why…” 

“Shhh, it’s okay baby,” May says, misty eyed herself. She grabs the handle of the wheelchair and turns him around. “Let’s go get some tissues from the car.” 

It gives Tony a moment to himself and he sighs, sitting on the ground between the stones.

“Hi, I...I haven’t even done this for my own parents, so it feels a little weird.” Tony sighs, putting his hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to meet you and say that… God, I don’t know what I’m doing. But Peter is such a good kid. His heart is so kind and big. He makes me want to be better. To be a better man, maybe a father someday. He’s a little reckless at times, I blink and he’s injuring himself or doing some teenage superhero bullshit, which also makes me second guess the whole father thing…” He trails off, clearing his throat. “But I wanted to thank you for raising him. For making him the man is. He told me a little bit about you all last year. I wish I could have met you. All of you. . . I’ve made too many mistakes to count, some even with Peter. But I will do everything in my power to protect him. And I just wanted you to know that.” He claps his hands, rubbing them together to break the tension he feels. “Okay, well. . . Rest easy Richard, Mary, and Ben.” He touches their gravestones in farewell, and walks back to the car.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed. And yes, I know Peter is jewish but I remembered that three-quarters into writing this so I apologize.


End file.
